STEADY MY BREATHING
by LeeMinKyo
Summary: Future!Klaine. You see the sheets twist under his body, the clothes you have been wearing being thrown randomly to the floor of your bedroom and you can only ask yourself: "How was I able to live before I met him?" BLAINE POV.


**STEADY MY BREATHING, SILENTLY SCREAMING**

**DISCLAIMER:** Neither Glee or its characters belong to me. Oh boy, if they were mine we would only get Klaine all the time. M-rated Klaine.

**RATING:** M because I mention erections, sex, and boy-to-boy action.

**WORDS:** 5849

**SUMMARY:** Future!Klaine. You see the sheets twist under his body, the clothes you have been wearing being thrown randomly to the floor of your bedroom and you can only ask yourself: "How was I able to live before I met him?" BLAINE POV.

**THANK YOU:** To my amazing babe** Azraeldoesnotdispute** for beta'ing this fanfic for me. Trust me, that's not an easy task. Being not English native sucks, and only her magic beta'ing could make this readable. I love you, sweetie. Thank you sooo much.

**AN:** The title of this fanfic was inspired by the song 'Edge of Desire' by John Mayer, which vickivictoria recommended to me when I asked for songs to listen while I was writing Klaine fanfics. This story was a personal little experiment that I wrote a couple of months ago and published for the Spanish Glee fandom. People seemed to like it a lot and I thought "why don't you translate it to English and see if the English fandom likes it too?" So, here I am. I hope someone likes it and I would be thrilled if you could drop me a couple of lines (or more) telling me what do you think about it.

BTW, this is very very veryyyy fluffy but in a deep way (or at least I like to think so), and there's a surprise in the end of the chapter. I hope you don't stop reading halfway because all this fluff makes a lot of more sense once you read the last part. :)

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x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

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_Don't say a word just come over and lie here with me  
>'Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see<br>I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe  
>There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me<em>

_.  
><em>

You know you have gone through this a lot of times before. You know it, and nonetheless it amazes you how the butterflies in your belly are still there after all that time. Deep down you know that feeling shouldn't still be as intense as it was when you first kissed him, but you can only feel glad for it and pray that it doesn't go away because you don't want to believe there will be a day when you don't love him as much as you do now.

You don't even remember what your life was like before him, but in those few times when you try to remember it, you feel a lump in your throat. No, you don't want to remember it; you only want to make new memories with him.

You feel his hands on your chest and, for a moment, that distracts you and you smile automatically, knowing it will earn you a smile back. But that smile that you expect to see, it's not innocent like usual; this time is a soft smile mixed with a lusty spark on his eyes that you know too well _not_ to shiver with anticipation.

That light on his eyes is like a beacon for you. It blinds you and, at the same time, it guides you back home. It makes you think of all the people who will never get someone to look at them like that. And God, does that make you feel lucky. So lucky that you have to touch him, to put your arms around his tiny waist, to make him move closer to you.

But it's like 'close' is never close enough for you.

"Blaine," he sighs against your mouth and you smile like the stupid fool you have been since the first moment you saw him on Dalton's staircase.

It's been a long time since you both looked at each other's eyes for the first time. It feels like an eternity, but you know all the time in the world would never be enough.

Once you have the soft skin of his neck under your fingertip you can only get lost in the feeling of how especial your relationship is, and how lost in him you are. You have never cared about anything or anyone as much as you care about him and there was a time when that scared you, but not anymore. It's been quite a while since you were scared of needing him so much because you know he needs you just as much as you do.

A shiver runs through his body when you start to take his t-shirt off, but sadly it's not because how affected by your lust he is. At least, that's not the only cause. Outside of your small apartment in New York snow is falling, making everything look white and frosting your windows. It's cold even with the central heating on. That thought makes you laugh deep and low because that's the excuse Kurt used to start his seduction game.

Maybe you have just found a reason to like cold weather.

After all, he always gets playful and clingy when it's cold outside. He loves to use you to keep warm.

His eyes look at you with a evident confusion because your sudden laugh, but you make his worries go away with a quick kiss that changes into something completely different in a couple of seconds. His lips taste like mango and strawberry, which you have always loved. Sometimes you have been tempted to ask him if he uses those flavored chapsticks only to make you kiss him all the time, but you have never done it because you don't want to admit you would be kissing him all the time even if he used one of those medicinal chapsticks that taste like hell.

Yes, you can't stop kissing him. You have never been able to do it.

It's almost like an obsession, like an addiction you never want to be cured of because you know you wouldn't be able to live without feeling his lips against yours. You have spent too many years learning every kind of kiss and what it meant to stop kissing him now. You have always loved how your kisses are another way to know how his mood is or how his day has been, depending on the way he kissed you.

That's why, when he kisses you like he's doing now, with passion and devotion, you feel like the luckiest and most important person in the world. Someone like him, so especial and beautiful, thinks you deserve those feelings so – somehow – you must deserve them, even if you don't really know what you have done to deserve his love.

Your mind spins until it makes you feel dizzy with the lust pooled in the lower part of your stomach. You're moving towards your bed with the evident intention of forgetting about how cold your apartment is, and make each other sweat while you learn once more how to say 'I love you' without using any words.

"I can hear you think," he scolds you, but his lips on your neck distract you enough to not be able to reply him for a couple of minutes.

"Then you must be hearing how much I love you," you say, and you can feel his smile against your skin.

The next thing you feel are his hands drawing the shapes of your stomach's muscles, which makes you feel attractive for some unknown reason. It's like every time he touches you, you are a better version of yourself. It's stupid because he has told you hundreds of times how perfect you are for him, how impossible it is for anyone to make a better version of yourself, but you don't always believe him. You want to do it, but you can.

So, this time it's you who touches him. You put your hands on his hips and use your thumbs you draw circles around his hipbones. You love to do that, you love to feel the shape of his bones under your fingers. Solid and real, like him. Sometimes you object when he gets obsessed with his diet and you think about how adorable he would look with a subtle round belly or some more meat on his bones, but you can't deny how much you love his thin and slightly muscular frame.

A moan escapes his mouth when both of you fall on the bed and you lay down on top of him, letting every inch of your body touch his. Both of your t-shirts are somewhere between the living room and the bedroom – Kurt will surely grumble about how wrinkled his t-shirt is later tonight when he finds it – but it doesn't matter right now. The look on his face when he feels your skin touching his with every breath you take is dazzling and it makes you forget about anything that it's not him.

Your hands roam around his body, from his hips to his sides, his chest, his collarbones, the soft curve of his throat, his shoulders, his arms and finally his hands. Nothing is enough because you know it doesn't matter how much time you spend touching him you will always need more. His skin is so soft that you're worried about how rough yours is, how easy it would be for you to burst the delicate bubble of this dream you're living.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper and you're not sure if he has heard you, so you say it again. "You're so beautiful, it takes my breath away."

It does hurt. It hurts how different you are. He's delicate, soft, pale skin and pink lips. You're quite the contrary. You're rough, hard muscles, tanned skin and five o'clock. Your roughness leaves him some times marked for days, and you would lie if you said a part of you doesn't love the red burns that your whiskers leave on his pale skin. He grumbles when you caress those marks, but Kurt has never been good when it comes to hide his playful smiles. You can always see more than what he wants to show to you. It's part of your magic.

You can't stop yourself. You rub your left cheek against the skin of his chest, trying to steal some of his natural smell or at least leave yours on him. You're like an animal, wanting to mark him as yours so no one comes too close to him, but you will never admit it to Kurt. It's his fault for making you like this, he's the one to blame for making you hate the idea of anyone else touching what you consider yours so much that you become possessive and wild with jealousy.

There's so much about him to admire that you know it's not fair for you to be the only one doing it, but your lives have never been fair to begin with. It's something you both have learned long time ago.

The cold winter's wind whistles outside. It doesn't matter; you can't keep your eyes away from the beautiful sight under you. You move away enough to sit on your legs and take a better look. Messy hair, bright eyes, kiss-bruised lips, mouth open in a moan that never quite leaves his throat, chest moving up and down in gasping breaths, tiny waist and legs slightly open, waiting for you to take what is yours.

And God knows you plan to do it, but you're not in any hurry because neither of you are going anywhere tonight.

You smile for no reason, just because you're happy that he was the right one for you. He's your soul mate and you don't care if that sounds cheesy even to yourself. He smiles back and reaches out for you in a silent invitation that you would never dare to reject. You would never be able to deny anything to him; you have known that since the first time you kissed him.

So, you accept his invitation and lay on top of him again, resting against his chest for a moment, only enjoying the feeling of your bodies touching. Sometimes that's enough to make you want to cry.

He kisses you again, slow and sweet as if he could read your mind and knew that tonight you want to make love to him for hours. Slowly.

"I love you," you say, and it sounds like a promise. "I love you so much."

He looks at you for a second. The emotion in your voice too evident for him to not realize that you're in the middle of a storm of feeling and thoughts.

"I love you too, honey."

He puts his hands on both sides of your face, making you look at him with no chance of looking away. It's not as if you could stop looking at that mix of blue, green and grey anyway. It took you years to find a name for that color.

"I love you so much that I can't find the right words to make you understand it," he whispers and his breath caresses the tip of your nose.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, the tip of your nose, your temple, and finally a spot between your eyebrows; which makes you laugh because it's a gesture so yours and so intimate that no one else could ever kiss you like that.

"Now, let me show you how much I love you." He says and puts his legs around your hips, making you move closer to him.

You can feel his erection against your leg and you have no doubt he can feel yours. You feel his wet lips on the spot where your neck and your shoulder meet. You feel his hands - strong and warm - on your back, not allowing you to move away.

_As if you had any reason to want to move away_, you think wryly.

You feel all those things he's doing to drive you crazy and you feel tempted to tell him it's not necessary to do it, one look and you're his. But you don't say a word because you love this sweet torture.

Your own body gets wild at the possibilities, at all those things you want to do to him, and all those spots you want to touch. So, you simply pick a spot and start from there. It's hard to think while his lips keep teasing your neck, and even harder when he starts to write sweet nothings on your skin with the tip of his tongue. Good thing your body has never needed help from your brain when it comes to respond to him.

You caress his chest, amazed by the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, by how solid yet soft are the muscles of his chest, and how different his body looks once he gets rid of all those layers he usually wears. You use your thumbs to touch and squeeze his nipples for a second, knowing all too well his reaction every time you do so. And he doesn't let you down. Has he ever let you down before?

He moans and arches his back, making you remember how many times you have seen this lustful image before. There are a lot of memories like this one, memories of you two together, memories of first times filled of awkwardness, memories of all those new things you tried together – half scared of the unknown, half thrilled for the possibilities - , memories of those times when you both realized there was nothing to be afraid of because the only thing that mattered was how much you loved each other.

How long has it been? Three years? Four?

Your brain has not enough brain to help you remember with exactitude, but you know that – usually – you could have been able to say how many years, months, days and hours have passed since the moment you realized you loved him.

If only you weren't being distracted by the feeling of his hands undoing the zip of your pants, you would be able to think straight.

Well, who needs to think anyway?

You move your hips against his body, wanting more friction almost as much as you want to find a faster way to get rid of all your clothes. You moan when your erection rubs against his leg and he moans back, which only makes you launch yourself to his mouth to steal a kiss. His hand stops its movement between your bodies. You know how easy is to distract him with your lips and tongue.

You need more of him.

You need everything of him.

You need the touch of your lips melting like the mix of fire and ice that you both have always been. Black and white. You need the taste of his mouth on your tongue, sweet and hot like the best dessert. You need to hear those sounds he makes when he can't hide how much he enjoys your kisses anymore. Deep and low.

Soon, it's him who takes control over the kiss, maybe because he knows you're enjoying your power over him a little too much, maybe because he wants to keep going and play his part of this game of sweet torture. You don't know which one is the right answer, but you're glad he has gone back to undo the zip your jeans.

"I hate these stupid pants and how hard is to take them off," he growls and you laugh because it's impossible not to do it when Kurt looks so adorably frustrated. "Don't you dare to laugh at me or these pants will stay on you tonight and no one will have sex," he scolds you and you laugh again.

"You look so adorable when you get mad."

"And you're mean when you laugh at me," he says and bites your bottom lip harder than he would usually do it, which only makes him even more adorable and makes you want to laugh again.

"I'm not laughing at you," you reassure him. "I laugh because you're so adorable that I want to ravish you right now."

"Oh. Well, then why have you decided to wear these jeans I hate so much? That zip always gets stuck. It's impossible to get you naked if you try to make me go through some kind of ability test. Do you have something in there that you don't want me to touch? Because you could tell me about it instead of choosing these pants to cockblock me."

You smile again - actually, you're not sure you have ever stopped smiling since you met him – and grab one of his hands to leave a soft kiss on his inner wrist.

"There's no part of my body that doesn't adore to be touched by you. Especially what I hide under those pants."

Without letting go of his hand you move it to the front of your jeans, pressing his palm against the curve of your erection, and making you both moan with anticipation. You want each other so bad that that pleasure is killing you.

You look at each other and no words are needed. You have never needed them anyway. Your hands go to your own pants and in less than a minute, both of you are taking your clothes off.

There are so many things you could tell to him about how much you love his body, about how the sight of his naked body makes you want to pray – even if you have not believed in God for years – and ask for him to never leave you, but in the end you realize that those words would never leave your throat. There are too many emotions inside of you to explain them with words. Everything is a mix of happiness, lust, passion, love and a long list of feelings that have never been named by anyone.

Maybe no one before you has felt this.

Suddenly, you put your hands on his knees, opening his legs and looking at him to see how surprised he is. That surprised look on his face fades quickly when one of your hands leaves his knee and you curl your fingers around his erection. So hard, so hot that it burns your skin. You have made him get this hard, you have made him feel like this, and that knowledge makes you proud and grateful. You need nothing else to be happy. Knowing you're the one who turns him on, the one he loves, and who owns him is enough.

Your name leaves his mouth. At least it does sound like your name but you can't be sure because it's mixed with a breathy purr that comes from somewhere deep in his throat. You love that sound. But, it doesn't matter how much you love it because right now you can only silence him with a kiss, not because you don't want to hear it but because you want you feel it vibrating on the roof of your mouth.

And you kiss him, time and time again, long and deep while you start to move your hand up and down around his erection. You touch, caress, squeeze, let go and repeat again. You want to make him feel all those things he makes you feel without even touch you. And your mouth gets filled with the sounds he makes, those sounds that drive you crazy so quickly that there are times you're scared of losing your mind forever.

His cock on your hand feels like victory, like something you have claimed and now you own; but there was a time when you could only dream with touching him like this, a time when he didn't trust you enough to let you control him. God, you hate that time, even if you somehow remember it with a sweet smile. Remembering that young and shy Kurt always makes you smile.

The movement of your hand never stops. You move it up and down, you draw circles around the head with your thumb, and you tease him with feather-like touches of your other fingers. Soon, you stop kissing him because you need to hear his voice and you want to move your lips to that spot right under his right ear that makes him scream your name with such a high-pitched tone that it makes you vibrate. So you do it, you move your lips there and suck on that spot, waiting with a half-hidden smile to hear your name resounding in the silent room.

"Blaine!" he screams and you kiss him again, just a quick kiss to let him know how much you love the sound of your name on his lips.

He pants, moans and twists under your touch. You can see how his skin is not that beautiful shade of white porcelain anymore but a pinkish shade that you worship. You love how easily you can make him blush even after so much time together, even after his innocence turned into something you love instead of something you had to fight against.

But all those obstacles were worth it because now you have something you have never dreamed of. You have your other half, that part of you that makes you a better person. You could never regret anything that happened in the past because it made your relationship what it is now.

Abandoning that spot under his ear you lips go lower and lower from his neck to his shoulder, leaving a trail of little kisses that turn wetter and wetter. So wet that - when you arrive to his chest - your tongue is already part of this game. You kiss random spot on his chest, and right after it you draw lines between them with the tip of your tongue. It's like a personal version of connect the dots, but so much better than the original one.

No one moaned like that when you played that game in your middle school's notebooks.

For a moment every thought you had in your head leaves you because you realize how close of his erection your nose is. The smell of his sweet body odor mixed with the spicy smell of sex makes you dizzy. It's so intense, so tempting, that your mouth takes your hand's place before you can even realize what you're doing. And, oh God, the sounds he makes are amazing.

You move, up and down, but using your tongue to play with his erection. You love how he tastes, the feeling of having him inside of you like this. It's the moment when you feel closest to him. He's vulnerable, laying naked in front of you, letting you control his body and his mind, and fearing nothing because you would never dare to hurt him in any way possible.

But, you can't take it anymore.

You would love to spend the entire day teasing him, torturing him with your games, making him beg for your touch like you have begged for his hundreds of times, but you're so close that you need him right now. You need to be inside of him, making yours once more.

"Blaine… Oh God, Blaine… stop," he pants, making you wonder if he can read your mind because, when you look at him in the eyes, you can see he needs you too. He wants you as much as you want him.

What are you waiting for?

You open the first drawer of your bedside stand and open a small tub of lube that you always keep there. You two have done this enough times to have practice. With a gentle squeeze, you coat two of your fingers with the lube and rub them together for a couple of seconds to warm it up. The feeling of cold lube in the middle of a very cold winter is something you wouldn't recommend to anyone.

Looking at him for a second, you ask for permission, even if you know you don't need it. You like to treat him like he deserves. He smiles to you and nods slowly, but you're too lost in his darkened lusty eyes to see anything else.

It surprises you how deep and intense is that feeling in your chest at the sight of how he trusts you to do whatever you want, and how easy is to see love in his eyes. It makes you feel like this was the first time, and at the same time, it's so much more especial because it amazes you how sex is still something emotional more than purely physical. It's not only about pleasure, for both of you it's another dimension of your feelings and you know how most of the couples you're friends with don't feel like this anymore.

_But it's not time to think about that_, you scold yourself.

You move until you're between his legs, admiring how painfully sexy he looks laying down like that in front of you, with his legs and heart open for you. You love him so much it hurts, and there are times when you're not sure if that pain is good or not. Sometimes it hurts more than it should be normal, but it doesn't matter.

Once more you look at him in the eyes, but this time you move one of your fingers inside of him, seeing how his face changes with every emotion he feels. Surprise, tension and pleasure. He closes his eyes almost automatically and a pleased sound vibrates behind his closed lips when you start to move that finger. Slowly you move it, time and time again, letting him get used to the feeling before you pick up speed. He moans and without realizing it you moan too because it turns you on to know it's you who makes him feel like that.

It takes your breath away to know you have been the only one touching him like this.

You will be the only one touching him like this for the rest of your life.

His moans and the movement of his hips make you know what he wants. So you add a second finger while saying time and time again how much you love the feeling of him around your fingers, how badly you want to feel him around your hard cock.

It's like magic. Those words make him relax and get lost in his pleasure, and before you know it you're adding a third finger just to make sure he gets stretched enough for you.

You need him so bad you can't wait anymore.

Right now you can hear your own breathing and it sounds like a horse after running for hours, deep and fast. The feeling of sweat running down your temples makes you realize how hard you're trying to control your own desire.

No, you can't wait anymore.

You leave his body with a sensation of loss that you know will only last a couple of seconds. You're so ready it's not even fun anymore. But even so, you stroke yourself a couple of times, not sure if it's because you want to let go or because part of your brain reminds you to use the leftover lube of your fingers to coat your cock. Whatever it is, the answer doesn't matter.

He's there, laying down and looking at you with hungry eyes and open mouth. You can almost feel that hunger on your mouth.

"Please…" he begs, and you freeze. "Please, Blaine… I need you. Please."

Before you keep going, you grab one of his legs and kiss his inner ankle, biting the thin skin in there. He sighs happily, but looks at you with desperation and you're sure you look exactly like him.

Once you have left his leg resting again on the bed, you move closer to him, still between his legs, and align your erection with his body. Slowly – so slowly it drives you crazy – you enter him. It takes you some time to be completely buried inside of him, but when you reach that point where you can't go farther, you finally let out a breath you haven't realized you were holding, and lick your lips.

Nothing can compare with this feeling.

You know that much.

Nothing could be compared to the feeling of being deep inside of that person you love more than anything in the world. So close that it's almost close enough, even if it never really is. It surprises you that you still need more, that the idea of crawling under his skin and get lost in him is the only thing that would ever stop that ache in your chest.

But this is enough for now.

And you move, you move slowly and then faster, deep and deeper than before, just to feel more of him. He shivers, you tremble and there's an earthquake around you. The sounds floating in this room are a mix of both of you, like everything that surrounds you right now.

"Oh… Blaine," he gasps.

"Kurt… My God…. I-I…Oh God…" you moan and keep moving.

Sometime in the middle of all this, your hands have moved against your will and it takes you some minutes to realize that your hands rest at both sides of Kurt's head with your fingers entwined. You love that, you love the way your bodies look for each other all the time, as if world would stop if you two aren't close enough.

You feel tempted to let go of one of his hands and curl your fingers around his cock, but you can't move away. He's your life vest, what keeps you alive every day. You can't simple move away, but you know you will not need it because you recognize that look on his face, the way in which his mouth opens in a perfect O and his eyes roll back.

He's as close as you are.

So close that you feel torn between wanting to come and not wanting to do it, ever. Part of you wants to keep this feeling, this pleasure, this connection, forever. But the other part of you wants to let go, to drown in those seconds of pure bliss, because you know there will be a lot of times like this one in the future.

After all, that last part is right. You move faster, changing the angle a couple of times to touch his prostate, and Kurt's moans turn more and more high-pitched. That's always a good sign. You move, and move, and move time and time again, entering for a second just to move back again and repeat. He's so warm and so tight that it's impossible to control yourself. You can't do it, no matter how hard you try. And, just like that, you let your body take control.

There it is; you feel it. The moment when everything inside of you melts with a fire that Kurt has lighted. The moment when his body arches against yours and you can feel his muscles squeezes you so hard it hurts.

And it's halfway to madness – or maybe halfway to sanity – that you feel him go tense, enjoying his own orgasm while you try to ride yours.

Your body is on fire. It feels like a volcano melting everything on its way. Your bones, your blood, your skin… everything. It makes you feel vulnerable, and yet so loved and brave. It doesn't matter if you can't control the spasms of your muscles, or if right now you can't see anything apart from white lights, you love this feeling.

Suddenly, your body falls at his right and you thank God for not letting you crush him, even if you're not sure where have you found the strength to move enough to not fall on top of him. Immediately you hug him, cuddling his side and enjoying that first touch of your sweaty skins. You love the smell of sex on him; you love it so much that you want to make the room smell like this forever.

"Mmmmm…" He lets out a tired purr against your neck. "I love you."

"I love you too."

For a long time neither of you move. Cuddling and letting your sweaty bodies at the mercy of your cold apartment is not very wise, but you don't care. It's nice to feel the cold on your heated skins, and, you only need each other to stay warm.

You kiss him without realizing what you're doing – you're still half-lost in your bliss – but the sound of his happy humming makes you smile. You're responsible of that; you're who keeps him happy. Only you, and that's so hard to believe. Even after all you have been through, even after all the time you have been together.

He's your miracle, that wish you have never been brave enough to make but that came true anyway. He's what makes you happy every day, no matter how crazy your last year in college is, or if your part-time job's boss is an asshole, or if your apartment is too small for two persons, you only need HIM to be happy.

And you have him, that's what never ceases to amaze you. He's yours, as you're his.

"I can hear you thinking… again," he says with a tired voice and half-closed eyes.

"Are you a mind reader?" you ask him and he laughs, but he moves closer to you, putting one of his legs between yours.

"No, but I know you enough to know when you're lost in your thoughts."

"Without even looking at me?"

"Without even looking at you," he states. "What are you thinking about?"

"How much I love you."

"I have heard that before. What are you really thinking about?"

"Hey, it was true."

"Aha," he murmurs and it sounds like he's already half asleep. "Remind me to ask you about it tomorrow. You have been awfully lost in your thoughts today."

"Go sleep."

"You're so bossy after sex."

"You're bossy all the time." You joke and he puts his arms around you.

"Remind me to hit you tomorrow."

"I have to remind you a lot of things. I'm not sure I will remember them all."

You joke again, but this time there's no answer and when you look at him you realize he has fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder. Across the room you can see the snow still falling and the lights of the city reflected on the ring Kurt is wearing.

You smile like the fool in love you are.

You can't stop thinking how next year – when the snow is covering everything like a white blanket again – this beautiful man sleeping with you right now will not be your boyfriend anymore but your husband.

It's only been two days since you proposed to him, but you're sure you will not stop smiling for weeks.

.

.

**THE END**

**.**

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**So… yeah, this is it. My second Klaine fanfic in English. It has took a lot of work (and dictionary) to translate this fanfic from Spanish (which is my native language). I hope someone out there likes it enough to leave a comment. **

**This fanfic is very very especial to me, so I will be forever grateful to whoever takes the time to tell me what they think about it. **

**I'm working on a prequel (Kurt POV) about how Blaine proposed to him and his own thoughts about everything. If people like this oneshot I will translate it too. 3**


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